


The Ophelia Humphrey Show

by MaxWrite



Series: Hockey Night in Canada and Everything After [10]
Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Mission: Impossible (Movies) RPF
Genre: M/M, RPF, Religious Discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:37:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7023667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He is one of <i>the</i> most recognizable actors in the world, with a career spanning three decades, 30 award wins and 80 nominations, garnering him his own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame; the other is the U.K.-born cult icon turned in-demand Hollywood star, going from small but beloved buddy-cop and zombie films to working with the likes of Steven Spielberg. Today, I sit down with them both for a full hour, to discuss their lives, their careers, and the romance that <i>shocked</i> the world."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ophelia Humphrey Show

**"37 Odd Celebrity Couples**  
by Billboard Staff"

She scrolls through the list on billboard.com on her tablet. She's looking for a specific name and it doesn't take long to find it. In fact she finds it twice; Tom Cruise appears as part of odd couple numbers 2 _and_ 3, with number 3 being his current partner. Avril Lavigne and Chad Kroeger take the number 1 spot.

>   
>  _"Tom Cruise and Simon Pegg met when Pegg joined the cast of_ Mission: Impossible 3. _Five years later while filming the fourth installment of the franchise, they started dating."_  
> 

That's all it says beneath the photo of the two men together at _Mission: Impossible 4's_ world premiere. She's not surprised; she wasn't expecting much from a list-style article, if one could even call it an article. It doesn't matter anyway. She's had her research done for days now. Ophelia Humphrey is always prepared. Seeing what the internet is saying about her interviewees is just something to pass the time while her driver takes her up to the couple's vacation house, along a road that leads deep into the British Columbian mountains.

It's one of the few articles she's found and it isn't much different from the others. Most of what she's found are simple confirmations that the relationship is real and the odd blurb about the fact that they're dating. Other than that, there's gossip on blogs and message boards. There is both skepticism and support, annoyance and delight. Some are happy, some don't care. She's even seen the artwork. Fan art, they call it. Most of it is rather cute. She's steered clear of the fanfiction, though. She's heard _things_ about the fanfiction.

And that's it. There have been no official statements from the couple since November 2011. They've been lying very low since their official coming out nearly a year ago. They've been photographed together only at events. When asked about their relationship during press interviews for their films, neither says much on the subject, just that they're both happy and things are going very well.

In the distance the rooftop of a house begins to loom. It's huge, of course. She expected nothing less. It's a three-story chalet built partially on a rocky outcropping. Some of its architecture follows the natural shape of the surroundings; the flight of wide stone stairs leading up to the front door curves around a chunk of rock. Evergreens flank the stairs, and even more rise up behind the chalet, up over the mountaintop and spread out in all directions like a blanket of moss. All around her are mountains and evergreens that meet the sky and block out any signs of civilization.

Everyone else has arrived ahead of her; her own small staff and the crew. A couple of camera people are ready and waiting on the big circular driveway. One focuses on her car as it approaches, the other points his lens up toward the figure standing at the top of the stone steps as it waves at the car.

Even from a distance too great to make out his features, Tom is instantly recognizable. As the distance between them shrinks, she is struck by how much he looks like he belongs out here in this ski resort town, in his blue plaid shirt, dark-rinse jeans and brown leather workman's boots. His hair flutters in the chilly autumn breeze. He looks thicker than she remembers. He's packed on more muscle it seems, probably for a role. The entire effect looks good on him; handsome and rugged and like he should be out chopping firewood. He comes trotting down the steps as her car comes to a stop. As she exits the backseat, he extends a hand to help her up.

"Hello, hello, hello!" she says as they hug. He smells of cedar and sage. "So good to see you again."

"You too. Always. You look fantastic." He pulls back, but keeps hold of her hands and surveys her outfit. In her periphery she sees a camera person stepping closer to get a tighter shot of them.

"Well, thank you, but this is nothing," she says of her cashmere sweater and slim jeans tucked into knee-high boots. "No, _you_ look fantastic. Canada agrees with you, Tom."

He does look great; well-rested and happy and relaxed. He thanks her for the compliment and reminds her that he lived in Canada for a time as a kid. She'd known this, of course, and goes on to ask him if he ever misses it. They talk as he escorts her inside. One camera person goes in ahead of them to film them entering the house, while the other follows behind them.

Just as she's mentally noting that Simon hasn't appeared yet, Tom says, "Simon's just upstairs. He should be down in a minute."

"Oh, good. I'm really looking forward to meeting him."

"He's looking forward to meeting you too."

Interesting choice, to have Simon come in a little later. She supposes they're going for a more relaxed feel, like she's just a friend stopping by, not the most famous television host in the world here to grill them about their private lives.

He guides her through the chalet, into the large, multipurpose room where the interview will take place. It's a warm, woodsy paradise. The walls, exposed beams and load-bearing pillars are pale, golden pine. The floor is a dark, rich chocolate brown. Probably oak. The open-concept space contains a wet bar, pillow-laden window seats, bookshelves tall enough to require ladders, a cozy sitting area with understated furniture in a mixture of leather and cotton upholstery. There is a big double-sided stone fireplace at the center of the space. A fire dances and pops within. Huge windows line the room and all the curtains are open. The light brings out the warm golden tones in the wood. The room almost glows.

They talk about some key elements of the space: the fireplace, the window seat where Simon likes to read, the bar which is stocked not with alcohol but with sparkling water and everything needed for smoothies and virgin cocktails. They talk about the town, how scenic it is, the little shops Tom and Simon frequent. Just as they're wandering by the staircase, presumably on their way to the big kitchen in the next room, she hears footsteps from above.

And there he finally is; Simon gives her a wide, twinkly-eyed smile and a little wave as he comes down to join them.

She's seen him before, of course, before news of the relationship broke, before the rumors even, and a whole hell of a lot since. He's a little smaller than she'd expected; average height but slender. He is bespectacled, as he often is. He wears a short-sleeved shirt in pale blue, buttoned up all the way to the collar. Tattoos are visible on one of his forearms and on both biceps, peaking out from beneath his sleeves. His charcoal-gray pants have a large, faint check pattern woven in. She sees what they did there; the check in the pants mirrors Tom's plaid shirt, if very subtly. And both their shirts are shades of blue. Cute.

His mousy brown hair is shaved on the sides to about an inch above the ear. His jaw is graced with a healthy, ginger-brown beard, more beard than she's seen him with in pictures. He wears a simple white-metal ring on his ring finger, a big chrome watch and a pair of beaded bracelets on his left wrist, a delicate, woven leather bracelet on his right. He greets her with a handshake-hug and compliments her appearance, like Tom did. His frame feels more solid than she'd expected; he works out. His cologne has a simple, clean, crisp scent.

They all talk for the next few minutes and she closely observes them. Simon looks rather nice at Tom's side and their rapport seems very natural. They finish each other's sentences, somehow without speaking over one another. They each seem almost proud when the other says something funny. They smile at each other often. They touch easily; a hand on the back here, a touch on the arm there. When Simon is speaking, Tom watches him with that big, toothy grin of his set to full brightness. Simon watches Tom with a soft, adoring gaze that transforms into a full-on smile accompanied by infectious laughter when Tom makes a joke.

So far, they appear to be a very happy couple. But, she reminds herself, they _are_ both actors.

The interview hasn't officially begun yet, but some of this footage will be used in the episode. She wants as much footage of them interacting as possible after the virtual radio silence of the last several months. She supposes she understands that decision; they hadn't wanted their relationship overshadowing any of their film promotion. She wonders, though, if their coming out just before _Ghost Protocol's_ world premiere was an accident or not. If anything, news of the relationship only added to the film's tremendous success, so the timing might have been deliberate. But maybe not; rumors had been flying up until that point. If they'd tried to keep it secret throughout the premiere and press tour, their interviews and Q &As would've been awkward as hell. She also suspects they've been trying to keep curiosity about them to a minimum just for their own sanity. She's not sure that worked out the way they'd wanted, though. People are more curious than ever.

And that's what this interview today is about. They need to speak, come clean, tell their story. They couldn't keep quiet forever.

They pause for a while so that equipment can be set up and makeup and hair can be touched up. Simon grabs a few sips of water and is pulled aside by a young blond woman for a quick confab. She has a tablet in hand, a stylus tucked behind her ear and also sounds British. Tom, too, converses quietly with a woman Ophelia isn't acquainted with. Assistants, probably. Once everything's ready, the three of them retire to the sofas. Ophelia takes the love seat, which is at a right angle to the sofa where Tom and Simon sit. Tom sits with his knees spread, hands clasped before his groin; Simon crosses his legs toward Tom and folds his arms on his lap. Camera angles and lighting are adjusted, mics are tested once more. And they're off.

"Why has it taken you so long to do an interview like this?" she begins in a pleasant, hushed voice. "It's been almost a year since the news broke."

"We didn't think it was necessary," Tom says simply with a shrug.

"But you know everyone's been dying to know how this started."

"It just didn't seem that important. We're just living our lives."

"And there are more than a few people in the world who couldn't care less about us," Simon points out. "I realize that he is who he is and that people are curious about his life, but we can't live like that, thinking that we need to have a press conference for every decision we make. We're not political figures, we're not world leaders. We're just actors."

"Why _did_ you finally agree to be interviewed about your relationship?" she asks.

"We talked about it a lot," Tom says, "and we came to the conclusion that this isn't just about us. You could argue that it's no one's business, and you'd be right, but we thought it might be important to a lot of people that we talk about it openly."

"The LGBT community, you mean," she says.

"Right. Those who are out, those who aren't, and especially the young people. This is bigger than just us."

They'll get to that soon enough, but she wants to kick things off with lighter topics before getting into the heavy stuff. She steers the conversation to their current location; Whistler, British Columbia.

"It's become a favorite vacation spot of ours," Tom says with a smile. "Our relationship began while we were filming out in Vancouver, which is about seventy miles from here. We both love snow, we love snowboarding, we love spending time out here with the kids. It seemed natural that we should get a place out here."

"You mentioned you were filming when you started seeing each other," she says. "You were filming the fourth _Mission: Impossible_ at the time."

"Yup, _Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol_."

"You had an on-set romance."

Tom chuckles. "Yeah, sort of. We didn't broadcast it, but yeah, we, um … we got close."

She takes note of the little smile that just barely touches Simon's lips. He lowers his eyes to his lap, presumably to hide his amusement. She hopes a camera caught that. She can only guess what that smile might mean. If the relationship is real, then it probably means there was an abundance of secret sex happening on and off set.

"It feels like it came out of nowhere, the relationship," she says.

Tom smiles shyly. "Yeah, it kind of hit me that way too."

"Your interest in Simon did," she clarifies.

"Our friendship was still developing at that point. We'd spoken a few times over the years since _Mission 3_ " –

"The third _Mission: Impossible_ , Simon's first film with you."

"Right. But we didn't really start getting to know each other until _Ghost Protocol_. For the third film, he was only on set for three days."

"The hockey game photos were the first pictures of you two that felt truly suspect."

"Oh, did they?" Tom asks innocently with that boyish grin of his.

"Absolutely! Have either of you seen them?"

"Not really, no," says Tom.

"Not that I can recall," says Simon. They speak at the same time while exchanging frowny glances.

"They looked downright intimate," she informs them. "Did those moments feel as intimate to you as they looked to the rest of us?"

"No," Tom says, shaking his head and not quite meeting her eyes. "No, not really. I was just leaning in to tell him something."

"So, that wasn't your first date?"

"No, we were just hanging out. He's not really into sports, but I was going to the game and I asked if he wanted to come. We were getting closer at that point, just as friends, but it wasn't until we were sitting up in that private box together that I realized how much I liked him."

"You hadn't realized it until that moment?"

"No."

"What was it about that night that made you see it?"

He takes a moment to find his words. "He was just … cute."

Simon chuckles at that, glancing downward and reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. Tom glances over at him and looks highly amused at Simon's sheepishness. He reaches over, gives Simon's knee a little squeeze and murmurs, "You were. You were beautiful."

Simon pats Tom's hand. "You're very sweet, but just …" He gestures toward Ophelia. "Over there. Interview's over there."

Ah. Simon can't take a compliment. He's even blushing a little. Tom looks back to Ophelia and, letting his hand linger a bit before removing it from Simon's knee, he says, "As I said, sports aren't his thing, so he was asking a lot of questions about the game. He was trying really hard to be interested in this thing that I'm so passionate about. I could tell he was really paying attention even though he wasn't ever going to care about hockey."

"You didn't develop a taste for it?" Ophelia asks Simon.

"Oh, god no," Simon says, scrunching up his nose in mock disgust.

"You should see him clear out of the room when I put the game on TV," says Tom.

"I wanted to give it a fair shake," Simon adds. "He was becoming a good friend and I didn't take that invitation that night for granted. He was sharing something with me that meant a lot to him. He's loved the game since he was a kid."

"And that was evident, that he cared," Tom says. "About me, not the game. That meant a lot to me and that was when it hit me; he's a great guy. That was when things started to click. I liked talking to him, I liked being around him, I liked _looking_ at him. I was attracted to him. I could've taken anybody to that game, but I chose him, the one guy who would never have wanted to go otherwise."

"You really hadn't realized you had feelings for him before that?" Ophelia asks.

"No. Sometimes that's how it goes, you know, sometimes it sneaks up on you."

"Tell me about that moment; when you were sitting up in that private box with him and you looked over at him and realized what your feelings meant."

He squints a little as though trying to pinpoint the memory off in the distance. He presses his lips together as he thinks, then says, "It was one of those moments that just brought things into focus. I wasn't acting the way I normally would. In the middle of all those people, all that screaming and cheering, with one of my favorite sports being played live right in front of me, my attention kept going to him over and over. That's when I knew."

"Were you looking at him a lot?" she asks with a smile.

"Yeah, kinda. Checking on him to see if he was enjoying himself, but also because, you know … I just wanted to." He looks over at Simon now and reiterates, "You were so cute that night."

Simon gives him a sweet smile. "Well, thank you, but I was literally just wearing jeans and a t-shirt and a hoodie. I looked a mess."

"You were perfect," Tom insists. He looks back at Ophelia and echoes her own thought: "He never knows how to take a compliment, but trust me, he was cute."

"Simon, did you notice anything that night?" she asks. "Did you notice him being more attentive?"

"Honestly, no," says Simon. "Didn't notice a thing. I had no idea until he actually came out and said it."

"How did you tell him?" she asks Tom. "Did you tell him that night?"

"Yeah. We went to dinner afterward, a quiet little restaurant in town. That's when I told him. I just looked at him and said, 'I think I'm falling for you.'"

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. That dinner could've been a date; there were moments when it felt like one. He was telling me his thoughts about the game and I just sat there watching him, listening, taking in every word. I probably had the stupidest grin on my face. And when he stopped talking I just sat there gazing at him. I forgot that it was my turn to speak."

"You were smitten."

"I was! And he finally had to ask me if I was okay and I just … I just came out and said it. I had to. The words just had to come out."

"And what did you think in that moment?" she asks Simon.

"I thought he must be joking," Simon says. "He's funny. People don't think he's funny, but he is. He's as much a practical joker as anybody. But he didn't say it like that, like a joke. He sounded serious."

"What did you say?"

"I asked him to repeat himself," Simon says with a little laugh. "But it was real, I could see it in his eyes and I didn't know what to think. I mean, he's beautiful, of course, and I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind more than once" –

"What, being with him?"

"Yeah, but I'd never considered it seriously. For starters he was my boss and I had no idea that he might actually be attracted to men until that moment. I never would've dreamt of asking if he was, or trying to turn our friendship into something more. The fact that he made that move kind of blew me away."

"Why was it so strange for you?"

"Well … who thinks Tom Cruise is gonna fall in love with them?"

"Was there no flirting before that moment?"

"From him? Maybe. In hindsight I think I can pinpoint a few instances, but at the time I had no idea."

"There was," Tom confirms. "A little. Maybe I was too subtle about it, but I definitely tried. I'm not very good at it."

"Really?" she asks. "You've spent your entire career as a leading man. It's surprising to hear that you're not a natural flirt."

"Yeah, it's just, you know, I don't wanna come on too strong, so I guess I hold back a lot. It's all or nothing with me."

"What does flirting look like for you? What did you do?"

"Just, you know … I like to think it was all in my eyes. I smiled a lot. I'd maybe lean in close to whisper to him when I didn't need to. Yeah, I was probably too subtle. But I wasn't sure if he liked men, either, so I didn't wanna be too forward."

"But you had an inkling that he might like men," she says.

"Yeah. I could kinda sense it sometimes, but I didn't know for sure."

"Is he the reason you finally decided to come out?"

"In part. A lot of things went into that decision. I've matured a lot. Our society is a very different one than the one I grew up in. And of course I suddenly had someone I wanted to come out for. He deserved that. I wanted to do it for both of us. But, you know, I said to him once that it's been a really long time for me. I'd been hiding for the entire three decades of my career. It was definitely time, and he was like a sign for me. He was like an event in my life."

"You've never felt this way about a man before?"

He shakes his head. "No. Each time has been very different, but ultimately no, I haven't. It's … it was the timing of it, of him coming into my life at just the right time. We'd met before, years ago, but it couldn't have happened then; I wasn't ready and he was only around for a few days. So, to have him come back into my life, in a more permanent way, right when I was starting to think coming out was a real possibility; that _had_ to be a sign."

"Simon, you were an event!" she says to Simon, smiling brightly at him.

Simon laughs, his whole face lighting up. "Yeah, that's nice to hear. That's lovely."

"Was it like that for you? Was he like a signal to you that something was changing in your life?"

"Yeah, you could say that. But for me it was a slower process. He seemed ready to tell the world mere months after we got together. He's a bit older and had been thinking about it a while. It took me the better part of a year."

"Why were you hesitant?"

"I just thought it was nobody's business, really. I was comfortable. Coming out didn't seem necessary. But like he said, he thought I deserved a relationship that I didn't have to hide, and I felt the same for him. I didn't want to force him to stay closeted, but the truth is I just wanted to keep some part of me to myself. More and more people were discovering me as an actor, and the more people knew who I was, the more I felt the need to guard my secrets, big and small. I was afraid of giving myself away to strangers bit by bit. But I eventually realized that coming out wasn't just about me and him."

"What Tom said earlier about it being bigger than you," she says.

"Yeah. There are still loads of people who are closeted out of necessity because their safety is at risk. Staying silent began to feel like a slap in the face to those people, like I was complicit in their oppression. Because I wasn't in any danger, physical or otherwise. I didn't have to worry about being kicked out of my parents' house or getting fired from my job. There was no reason to stay quiet. Wars aren't won with silence."

"Wars aren't won with silence," she echoes, nodding at him. "That's good. That's really good. I like that."

"Thank you. But I also want to point out that coming out is a very personal thing. Don't do it out of a sense of obligation. Do it when it's time, when you're prepared to deal with whatever comes as a result. It was time for me – for us. "

"How has it been since the news broke about the two of you? What's the reaction been like?"

"It's been great," Tom says. "Truly. Our fans have been nothing but supportive. They've really been fantastic."

"For the most part, yeah," Simon agrees with a little more caution. "There've been mumblings from the odd bigot or skeptic, but that was to be expected. On the whole, everyone's been really wonderful."

"It's been interesting to see everyone's reactions," Tom says. "They're so enthusiastic. We've had so many people tell us how inspirational we are to them. That means everything. It really does. We're just people. We're not special. But we're in the public eye, so we hold a certain amount of responsibility. We don't take that lightly. And we don't take everyone's support for granted."

"Has there been much backlash?" she asks.

"Like anything else, there are those who aren't happy about it," Tom says. "We don't pay attention to it."

"I saw an article the other day," she says, "in which the writer went into great detail about their own personal theory about how you, Simon – and I quote – 'slept his way into _Mission: Impossible_ '."

"Oh, eff that," Simon says, scrunching up his face in annoyance. "Yeah, I've seen some things like that here and there. I'd be insulted if it wasn't so ridiculous. Who in their right mind thinks I'm sleeping my way to the top? This isn't the result of _sexual favors_." He says those last words with clear disdain. "I worked my arse off to get to where I am. And what's worse is what those rumors say about Tom. That's not the type of person he is."

"Simon," Tom says quietly, reaching over and gently touching Simon's knee again. "It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. People like to act like they know people they've never even met. They pick out the worst traits in themselves and apply them to everybody else to make themselves feel better. It's all about making yourself feel superior, but it just makes you look asinine."

"Simon," Tom repeats. He gives Simon's thigh a squeeze, a little rub. It's more than just a way of pulling Simon back a bit. Simon had sounded relatively calm as he'd spoken, but Ophelia can tell he feels passionately about what he said, so it's no surprise that Tom can also sense his distress. Tom is trying to soothe him.

The two men lock eyes and Tom coos, "It's okay. You just have to learn to ignore it."

"It really hurts you to hear implications like that made about Tom, doesn't it?" Ophelia asks Simon.

"Yeah," Simon replies in a softer voice. "Course it does."

"More than the things that are said about you."

"Absolutely. It's far worse when it's someone you love."

"Tom? How does hearing those things about Simon make you feel?"

Tom takes his hand back as he searches for words. "It's like he said, you know, it always hurts more when it's someone you love. Knowing that some people doubt his talent …" He shakes his head, then says with quiet conviction, "He is phenomenal. Just phenomenal. The first time I worked with him, I was blown away. He added things to his character that worked _so_ well. It was initially a small part, but he made it feel like so much more and I knew I wanted him back for a bigger role. I knew that _instantly_ , long before our relationship became romantic. Anyone who thinks this man doesn't deserve his success is just deluded."

Simon watches Tom with clear affection; that softness Ophelia had seen in his eyes earlier is back.

"Simon, what are you thinking?" she asks him, quietly as if afraid to break the moment.

"That I'm very lucky," Simon says to her, that loving look still on his face. Tom is watching him now with a soft smile.

"He's always been one of the kindest people I've known," she agrees.

"Yeah," Simon says, looking at Tom again. Then with a shrug of mock indifference, he quips, "He's all right. I guess I'll keep him."

The affection, the conviction with which each man defends the other seems genuine. In fact she's seen Simon stick up for Tom this passionately before, in a past interview, but she's still not willing to concede so easily. If there's an angle here, what might it be? There's the public support garnered from coming out. As Simon pointed out, there was no real risk to him in coming out, not in today's world, not given his social status, his race, the countries he calls home. It's the same for Tom; the number of fans he's lost is insignificant compared to the number he's gained. So doing this now, as important as it is, could've been a very lucrative career move for both of them.

But would they really only make a move like this for personal gain? Neither seems the type.

They take a break for commercials, and when they're rolling again it's time for some harder hitting questions.

"Your relationships with women," Ophelia says to Tom, "were they real? Did you love them?"

"Of course I did," Tom replies instantly, showing no signs of annoyance or stress. Not yet. "Those relationships were one hundred percent genuine."

"Because you know that's not what people think, especially not now."

"I know. I know people think that I was living some kind of lie, but I wasn't. I was just … living. You love someone, you get married, you have children."

"But in a different world, a more tolerant world, would you have had those relationships? Would you ever have married a woman?"

He inhales and licks his lips. "Maybe. I can't say. Certain circumstances brought those people to me, circumstances that had nothing to do with my sexual preference. I may still have fallen in love."

"Were you trying not to be gay? Did you wish you weren't?"

He licks his lips again. Could be a sign of mild stress. Simon is keeping an eye on him now; Tom's loyal protector. Simon's bright-eyed, friendly warmth is gone, replaced by an almost stern watchfulness.

"No," Tom replies. "As I said, I fell in love just like anybody else."

"So there was never a moment when you thought it would be easier if you were different?" she asks.

He hesitates. "It might've crossed my mind, sure."

"Is that difficult to admit?"

"It's never easy to admit that you've been uncomfortable with what you are."

"When did that stop? The discomfort. With Simon or before him?"

"Before. He and I couldn't have had what we have now ten years ago. And …" He pauses, casts his eyes slightly downward. "I wouldn't want to put him through that."

"Through what?"

"It wouldn't have been easy, being with me back then. It _wasn't_ easy. We all learn and grow and change with time. I've come a long way. I'm happier. He's a special guy. He deserves the best version of me that I can be."

There's a quietness that's come over Tom, in his demeanor, in his voice, in his eyes. He's somber. He's regretful. To his right, Simon inhales and shifts a little in his seat. He can be fidgety, she's noticed; he'll often stroke his beard or tug his ear or gently rub at the tattoos on his biceps. Has the fidgeting increased since this line of questioning began? She's not sure.

"It's been difficult for you," she says softly to Tom.

"It's been … it's been unfair. To them. My past partners. After Katie, I decided to focus on work and my family, my kids."

"You decided what, not to date anymore?"

He nods. "Dating felt like a distraction. But then Simon happened" –

"The _Event_ ," she says with a smile to them both. Simon takes his eyes off Tom for a moment to acknowledge her with a polite smile. The left corner of his mouth barely twitches upward. His gaze now makes her feel like she's under a microscope. It feels cold and suspicious.

Tom chuckles. "Right, The Event. When he happened, I wasn't looking. I wasn't interested. I was happy."

"You were happy being on your own?"

"Sure. But I wasn't on my own. I had friends, family, colleagues, work. I was busy and fulfilled when he happened."

"That's why it happened then," she says sagely. "You were ready. You were open to it and the universe felt that. There was room for him in your life."

He smiles. "That's it exactly."

Simon's expression has softened again. His smile is small but more genuine now as he watches Tom. Unfortunately, she's pretty sure that's about to change.

"You know what many people are wondering now, don't you?" she says.

"I'm sure they're wondering a lot of things," Tom says with a wry smile.

"Was there intimacy in your past relationships with women?"

He squints a bit, presses his lips together again, a slow breath in and then out that makes his chest rise and fall. "There was," he finally says. His tone isn't one that exudes certainty, but that could simply be due to his discomfort with the question. "It's not something I want to go into detail about, but yes, there was."

"Was it something you enjoyed? Did you do it for your own pleasure or just theirs?"

"It's … it's not something I feel is important to talk about now. It's done. It's in the past. The people that I've been with, that I've loved, will always be important to me. Yes, I was in love. Yes, there was intimacy. Maybe that's hard for people to understand, but sexuality is complicated. That's all there is to it."

Just as she'd known he would, Simon's gone serious again. He shifts his eyes to her just as she's glancing at him, and he holds that gaze for a moment, tilts his head back a bit to look down his nose at her. What's he thinking? Is he trying to intimidate her? She gives him a smile and stares right back, just to let him know that she's here to do a job and she's going to do it thoroughly. After a moment, he makes the effort to relax his expression and looks away.

She decides to back off of Tom now. She didn't really expect to get much out of him regarding his sex life, but the questions had to be asked. Tom knows that as well as anybody; these are questions that he approved. The very act of allowing those questions to be asked, and handling them gracefully, will work in his favor. In fact, there are more questions that she's cleared to ask, but she's excellent at reading people, and everything about Tom in this moment is a big red flashing stop sign. He hides it well enough, but not from her. And not from his partner.

"It's ironic, isn't it?" she says to Tom. "You're in a relationship, a gay relationship, that is more fraught with difficulties, controversy, than any other kind because of the world we live in, but you're more at peace now than you've been in a long time."

He gives her a soft smile, nods and says, "True. But I'm not in a gay relationship." When she cocks her head at him in mild confusion, he says, "I'm in a same-sex relationship."

"Ah. Because you, Simon, aren't gay," she says to Simon.

"No," Simon says, focusing on her again. His demeanor remains a little tense after Tom's questioning. He needn't worry so much; Tom's fine. This is hardly his first rodeo. He's already recovering now that the conversation has moved away from his past lovers.

But Simon's body holds onto its tension; he seems to be trying to occupy as little space as possible. This doesn't go unnoticed by Tom, who now keeps watch over Simon the way Simon had for him. These two have learned to read each other's signals very well.

When Simon speaks, however, he sounds as calm and confident as ever. His voice is deep and clear and steady and his expression betrays nothing of his anxiety. "You can say the word, it doesn't bite," he says to her, now managing to crack a smile. It's a lazy sort of smile, lopsided and relaxed, but it seems genuine.

"Bisexual," she says. "You're bisexual."

"Yeah, there you go. Not so scary, is it?"

"Why do you think bisexuality causes so much controversy?"

He sighs. "I dunno. I think people see it as sort of a gray area; neither one thing, nor the other. People tend to want to ignore gray areas in favor of extremes. We like labels, we like to sort things. As much fear and anger as there is surrounding homosexuality, people have an easier time understanding it. Not that my experience has been more difficult than his. It hasn't. Bisexual oppression is a real thing, certainly, but my struggle hasn't been nearly as bad as his."

"But do you feel on some level it's more difficult for bisexuals than for gays?"

"No, it's … it's just different. I could've settled down with a woman and never told anyone about my attraction to men and it would've been fine for me" –

"Would it? Having to keep such a big part of yourself hidden forever?"

"It's hard to say. But I could've done it and I would've had an easier time of it than he's had hiding his sexuality."

"I don't want this to be a competition," Tom chimes in. "It's not easy for any oppressed group. He's had to deal with as much discrimination as I have."

"Well" – Simon begins, but Tom cuts him off.

"No, don't do that," Tom says to him gently. "Don't downplay it. The countless people who've decided you're not what you say you are just because they don't understand it; I know that hurts you. You've been called every homophobic slur in the book, just like I have. It can't possibly hurt any less for you."

"I'm just saying," Simon says to him, "I had an option."

"Some of our challenges are different, but that doesn't mean one of us has it easier. This is important. You should be honest about it. I want you to be."

Simon seems to concede Tom's point. He looks back at Ophelia and says, "Queer people do not have it easy. Full stop. Ha, news flash, right?"

"Do you have guilt about what you are, about having 'an option', as you call it?" she asks.

"Yeah, I suppose. I really do feel like I had more of a way out than he did. But he's right. I'm doing a disservice to people like me. I have this platform, complete with the attention of millions of people. If I'm gonna sit here and downplay what it's really like for us, that does no one any good."

"What's it like? Tell us."

He thinks for a moment, then says, "Well, for starters, there is as much bisexual discrimination within the LGBT community as there is in the straight world. Gay men and women refuse relationships with bisexuals all the time because it's just a given that a bisexual person is going to cheat or end the relationship because they changed their mind. I've heard the stories, gay people saying, 'Well, I dated this bi person once and they left me for someone of the opposite sex,' or 'They decided they didn't really like insert-whichever-gender-here after all,' and I'm just like … _and_? It's just childish. You got dumped. Doesn't matter why or who for. When you say things like that, it makes me think it probably wasn't even about sexuality. Maybe they left you 'cause you're a bit of a knob."

Tom smiles and shakes his head. He will stand by his partner in this interview no matter what, but Ophelia wonders how he really feels about Simon's statement. It could be controversial and Tom's gotten really good at steering clear of unnecessary controversy.

"We're seen as a fetish," Simon continues. "Just something to do for fun. We're like a novelty. I am not more prone to cheating because I'm bi. That's ridiculous. I'm not flaky. I'm not indecisive. Bisexuality is not about an inability to choose. It's no more a choice than any other sexuality. And it's not half this and half that; it is its own separate category. I'm not gay just because I'm with a man. I wouldn't be straight if I was with a woman. Assuming so is called erasure. I am not homophobic because I correct someone who says that I'm gay or that I'm in a gay relationship. That's not homophobia, that's me claiming my sexuality, asserting it. I have to, because it gets ignored, erased, questioned everyday. I am a bisexual man. Always. Words are important. I'm not in a gay relationship; I'm in a same-sex relationship. I don't have gay sex; it's just sex. My wedding's not gonna be a gay wedding, as I am not a gay man. I don't change what I am depending on certain conditions for cryin' out loud. What am I, Schrodinger's Bisexual?"

Tom has been watching Simon with a proud smile. There are more teeth showing than there are hidden inside his mouth. He's beaming. He's the proudest man on the planet right now.

All right. Perhaps Simon's bluntness really isn't a sticking point for him.

Then something echoes in her mind like a shout inside a cavern. "Wedding?" she asks Simon.

"Erm … what?" he asks.

"You said something about your wedding."

His voice goes up an octave as he asks, "Did I?" He looks at Tom, who looks at him. Their mouths move soundlessly.

"We've, uh …" Tom begins, turning his eyes to her. "We've discussed it."

"Marriage," she says.

"We have no immediate plans," he quickly adds.

It is now that the understated ring on Simon's ring finger catches her eye again. How had its possible significance not occurred to her before? Because Simon's a man and his ring is a man's ring. It isn't the giant, glinting rock that a woman would be wearing. It's a simple, plain band – not too thick, not too thin – with a delicate little round diamond inlaid in it. Easy to miss and dismiss.

"Did Tom give you that ring you're wearing, Simon?" she asks, giving him a knowing look, like a teacher who's caught him in a lie.

"Erm …" Simon stammers. He glances at the ring on his finger like he's only just noticed that it's there. "Yeah. It was just a gift. Nothing special or matrimonial."

"Mind if I get a closer look?"

He uncrosses his legs and shifts forward, perching on the edge of the sofa cushion. She leans forward as well and gently takes his fingers in her own. She angles his hand so that the camera can get a nice tight shot.

"That was just a gift," Tom says, echoing Simon's statement as though he's afraid she hadn't heard it.

"So, it's _not_ an engagement ring?" she asks, looking him in the eye as she sits back again. Simon slides back as well.

"If it was an engagement ring, that stone would be bigger than that," Tom says. "I don't care that he's a man."

Good answer. She's not sure if she should believe it, but it's not worth pressing the issue. If they're engaged, it'll come out soon enough. She would've loved to have had that announcement made on her show, but you can't win 'em all. She's the only one getting an interview like this from them and that's plenty.

"I'll tell you this, though," Tom adds, "if and when we do get married, you're the first person that we're not related to who'll be invited."

"So, marriage _is_ on the table for you two."

"Sure, absolutely," Tom says nonchalantly, as if this conversation is exactly what he'd wanted to happen. Maybe it is, but she doesn't think so. "We've definitely had some long talks about it."

"Well," she says, "if it happens, I will be there with bells on. You can bet on it."

They both smile warmly at her and she calls for another commercial break.

* * *

"When _was_ your first real date?" she asks when they're rolling again. It's definitely time for some lighter topics.

"India," Tom says, smiling wistfully. He looks at Simon. "Remember? The gardens?"

"Yeah, it was beautiful," Simon says to her. "He took me to this amazing restaurant in Bangalore."

"There were pictures of the two of you leaving The Leela Palace Hotel. Was that the night?"

Tom nods. "Yup. There are some fantastic restaurants inside that hotel. We had a great time there. The entire staff was great. We had a wonderful experience."

"And after the meal he took me for a nighttime stroll in the gardens around the building," Simon says.

"Does he do that kind of thing a lot?" she asks. "The dinners, the gifts, the extravagant nights out?"

"That is sort of his way sometimes," Simon admits, looking at Tom affectionately. "After the hockey game, he sent a bunch of roses to my trailer on set."

"Didn't someone notice?"

"I'm sure someone did!" Simon laughs. "My trailer looked like the Rose Bowl Parade had passed through town."

"It wasn't that bad," Tom says to him.

Simon gives Tom a disbelieving glance, then looks at Ophelia again and says, "It was bad. I mean, it was lovely, but I had a bee infestation for a week after that."

Tom gives a casual shrug, not looking particularly regretful. "Apparently I go overboard sometimes."

"He's just very generous and thoughtful, but it's not always extravagant. That's not the point with him. The first time he took me out on his motorcycle, he didn't do it to show off, he did it to cheer me up a bit. We were wearing helmets, of course, so no one knew who we were. I was staying with him in California at the time and he drove me out to the Santa Cruz mountains."

"That must've been beautiful," she says.

"Really nice, yeah. I was a bit stressed at the time, so he took me out that day to give me a chance to breathe. It was great, being out there in the open with him, on the back of that bike with my arms around him, no one knowing it was us. It was really freeing. Here's a guy who lives this life that means he can't go anywhere without being hounded, but he still finds ways to maintain his freedom. He makes it work. I needed to be reminded that that was still possible for me too. It was just what I needed. That's the sort of guy he is. He's very intuitive. If he wants you to know that he cares, he'll show you, sometimes in big ways, and other times he'll take you out on his bike. Truth be told, he's sort of a homebody. He'd much rather stay in and have a cuddle on the sofa with the TV on than go out to some fancy restaurant. All the bigger things that he's done; that was sort of his way of wooing me, but there's so much more to him than that."

"Had you ever been pursued like that before?"

"Not quite like that, no. I'll be honest, it was a bit overwhelming. It was wonderful, but at the same time it carried all this weight with it. Being with him was suddenly something I could do if I wanted. There it was all of a sudden, being offered to me. It was a lot to think about, because I knew that once that box was opened I couldn't ever shut it again."

"What do you mean?"

"Because of who he is. I wasn't sure I wanted to be part of that, part of what his life is. I knew that once I took up with him, whether we officially came out or not, everything would change for good. I wasn't sure I wanted that level of celebrity that quickly."

"And what about now that you're in it?"

"Still not sure, to be honest," Simon says with a chuckle. "I mean, I'm sure about him. It's everything else that comes with him that I've never been fond of. I never wanted to be in the tabloids for any reason, let alone because of my outfits or what I order at Starbucks. It's a sacrifice I had to decide to make and I wouldn't change it now, but yeah, it's all still a bit overwhelming to me sometimes."

Interesting, she thinks. This isn't the first time that Simon has given the impression – no, has said _flat out_ that he doesn't like losing his anonymity. Why Tom, then? Why get involved with him if that was such a huge concern? Furthering his career seems more and more like a ridiculous reason. Judging from what she'd learned of his work during her research, this isn't a stunt he needed to pull to gain success; he already had it. That's a strike against the rumor mill. She reminds herself that cynicism isn't always the most logical option.

"You say that Tom's more of a homebody," she says, shifting gears. "What's it like at home with him?"

"It's quite normal, really."

"What happens during a typical day when you can spend time together? You wake up together and … what?"

The two men glance at each other. Tom smiles with the softest look in his eye that says that whatever Simon wants to say in this moment is fine with him. Simon has his trust.

"A typical day, erm …" Simon begins with a smile of his own. He looks at Ophelia again and says, "Sometimes I'll wake up before he does – I always had this impression that he was just this non-stop machine, up at the crack of dawn everyday, a hundred sit-ups done before breakfast, that kinda thing. But nah, he's normal, he likes to have a bit of a lie-in just like anybody else."

"A bit of a lie-in?" she asks with a smile.

"You Americans would say 'sleep in', I suppose. Yeah, he'll stay in bed for a while and I'll go down and make us coffee and then we'll read the day's news and answer e-mails in bed together. Just normal stuff. Those are some of my favorite times, actually."

"Just spending quiet time with him."

"Yeah."

"In bed."

"Well … yeah," he stammers, but he regains his composure quickly. "I mean, come on," he says, gesturing at Tom. "Wouldn't that be _your_ favorite time, too? Look at 'im!"

Tom smiles his shy smile and shakes his head.

"He's got a point there, Tom," she says, worsening Tom's embarrassment.

"Exactly!" Simon says with mock indignation. "You see my dilemma, don't you? He's lyin' there half-naked, lookin' like a _god_. It's obnoxious, really. It's like, 'Shit, guess I'm not gettin' anything done today.'" As soon as he stops talking, he realizes he's slipped and said one of the dreaded four-letter words. He rather cutely covers his mouth for a second before saying, "Sorry," with a grimace.

"It's fine, it's fine, we'll bleep it, you're fine, don't worry," she says to him, and she means it. She's rather delighted, actually, that his personality is coming out more now. She's glad that he's managed to relax.

"Ah, jeez," Tom says, his smiling face turning red. "I think I'm starting to regret this interview."

"When you first met him," she says to Simon, "was the attraction immediate for you?"

Simon thinks for a moment. "Yes and no, I suppose. Yeah, I noticed that he's quite easy on the eyes, but any real romantic interest didn't hit me straight away. As an actor you run into loads of abnormally attractive people. You just ignore it. You're not there to find a date, you're there to do a job. It wasn't 'til later, on the fourth film, when we started getting closer. That's when it started for me. It was inevitable at that point."

They go on to talk about dealing with their sexual preferences as kids. Tom says he'd always known. For Simon it was different.

"I didn't know!" he exclaims. "Not until my late teens, and even then I didn't quite believe it."

"You didn't believe what, that bisexuality was real?" she asks.

"No, I just didn't believe that that was what I was. I knew it existed, but I thought – I dunno, I guess that it was far more rare than it actually is. I knew I liked girls, so I knew I wasn't gay, and in my mind the only explanation that made sense was that _everybody_ just had a natural interest in both sexes to varying degrees, and that one day you just had some sort of epiphany about which you liked best."

"So, you thought that one day you would" –

"Just pick a side," he says with a shrug. "I thought a switch was gonna flip in my brain or something. For some reason being bi just didn't seem like a real option for me. I thought about men sometimes and I never thought it was a big deal, really. So I just didn't talk about it.

"My male friends would often sort of pretend-flirt with each other, just being silly and affectionate in that way that young people often do – sort of testing boundaries and experimenting in a safe way – and I thought they were like me, that there was this underlying truth to the flirting. I'm sure that there was for some of them, but it wasn't until one day when a friend and I were hanging out at a local pub in my hometown – we were nineteen – and we were a bit drunk and started talking about sex and dating. I mentioned something off-hand about liking men as well as women. I wouldn't have normally, but, you know … beer. So I thought nothing of it until it was out of my mouth, and my friend thought I was joking until he looked at me and saw that I wasn't. And I realized what I'd said and I was just like, 'Well, everyone's like that, though,' sort of trying to brush it off. Because even though I thought he was the same as me, I still understood that we weren't supposed to talk about it for some reason. And he frowned and slowly shook his head and said, 'Er, no, Simon, not everyone's like that.' I didn't believe him. I _argued_. I knew he must be wrong."

"You really thought the entire world was bisexual?"

"Yeah! More or less. Except I didn't call it that. It didn't need a name. To me it was just part of the process of figuring out your preferences. But then my friend leaned forward and looked me in the eye and he said in a hushed voice, 'Simon … are you bisexual?' And then I swear my brain exploded."

"What went through your mind?"

"My mind was blown. He was serious. He was looking at me, denying that he'd ever had any serious attraction to men, _ever_. It made no sense to me. And that was when I realized that I'd been wrong, that it _wasn't_ everybody. Up until then I'd been aware of bisexuality, but it seemed like such a distant thing, a rare thing. I knew gay people but hadn't met anyone who identified as bi. And _I_ certainly couldn't be one."

"Did it scare you?"

"That's the thing; no, it didn't. I'd long since stopped being afraid of such things. It just honestly had never occurred to me that it was something I could claim as my own. At any rate, in that moment, with my friend looking at me with genuine concern – not fear or judgment, but actual, real concern for my mental health – I realized my mistake and I felt an entire world opening up to me. But I didn't identify as bi straight away. The idea that I was probably straight and that everyone had the same thoughts as me had been so deeply ingrained that it took years to shake it. It wasn't until I was in my mid-twenties that I was finally able to say all right, not straight then."

"Why do you think it took you so long?"

"It just didn't feel like something I could call myself. I felt like a fraud for a long time, which is another thing that bisexuals face a lot, that feeling of being fraudulent unless you can somehow provide proof. Using that word to describe myself felt wrong for a long time. I still struggle with it, to be honest."

"Really? Even now?"

"Yeah. I'm forty-two! That's what society does, it brainwashes us to believe that it's not a real thing. So even now I question my own validity as a queer person. Even though I'm happily with a man. Do I really belong in the LGBT community? Is Pride Day as much a day for me as it is for him? It's still a struggle sometimes."

" _Do_ you have equal interest in both men and women?"

He glances toward the ceiling as he thinks. "It's not … it varies. Sometimes, yeah. Sometimes not. I can't give you a number, a percentage. Like, I couldn't say that I'm thirty percent for women and seventy percent for men. I suppose some people can quantify it like that, but I've always found that a bit odd. I could tell you how much I've been thinking about one gender versus another lately, but it wouldn't matter because tomorrow it could be different. An _hour_ from now it could be different. And I've been asked, before Tom, which gender I saw myself ending up with. I could never answer that. I've just never been able to think that way."

Simon talks about coming out to his siblings and his best friend, fellow actor Nick Frost, in his twenties and instantly gaining their support. The rest of the family didn't get to know until he was in his thirties. Tom tells a slightly different story.

"My mother and sisters say they always knew," he says. "I remember asking my sisters hypothetical questions about what they'd do or say if someone in the family was gay. They always said they'd love them no matter what."

"With questions like that, it must've been hard for them to _not_ know," says Ophelia.

"Oh, yeah, definitely. But they never asked. It was my secret to tell when I was ready. I never did ask my mother those questions, but she let me know in her own way that she would always be supportive. I remember sitting with her and my sisters in church, listening to priests and deacons, men I'd been taught to respect, tell me – tell _everyone_ – that I was going to Hell. Logically I knew that no one knew what I was, but sometimes it felt like the entire world could tell. So, every time those men talked about what a sin it was to be gay, it felt like they were speaking directly to me. I felt like there was a spotlight on me."

"That must have been hard on you," she says softly.

"Yeah, it was a tough thing for a kid to swallow. Or even understand. The God I'd been taught to love and worship, the God that everyone claims is all about forgiveness and acceptance, was the same God who was going to damn me to an eternity of suffering because of something I couldn't help. How does a kid deal with that? I'm extremely lucky that I had my family's support. One day in church, during one of those homophobic sermons, Mom decided she'd had enough. She took my hand and stood up and told me and my sisters that we were leaving. None of us asked why. We already knew. And even though it unnerved me to think that my mother knew I was gay, it was a relief to know that I had her support."

"What happened after that? Did you all have a talk?"

"We went straight to the nearest ice cream parlor," Tom says with a smile. "And we sat in a booth in the shop and ate ice cream together and Mom talked to us about fear, about how it can make people see monsters that don't exist." He nods to himself. "That was a good day."

Ophelia smiles. "She sounds like a great lady."

"She is. She's amazing."

"And what about now? What about Scientology? It's no secret that they don't condone homosexuality."

He shakes his head with his perfectly pleasant poker face on and says, "That's not true."

"It's not?"

"It used to be, a long time ago. Things have changed."

"So, they don't have a problem with your relationship?"

"It doesn't come up. They know who I'm with and that he's not going anywhere. It's just not an issue."

"Are you a member of the church, Simon?"

"No, I'm atheist," Simon says matter-of-factly. "I'm fully supportive of him, but it's not for me."

She knew all of this, of course, but it must be said for the audience. She figures there's more to the story than Tom is letting on, but the Scientology questions were to be kept to a minimum. The religion talk isn't over, though. Tom grew up in a religious household, even entertained ideas of joining the clergy at one point in his youth. And now he's dating an atheist. Interesting.

"When did you make that decision, to be atheist?" she asks Simon. "Is that how you were raised?"

"No, my family's Catholic, for the most part. I grew up like everybody else; saying grace at the table, before bed, that sort of thing. Which is fine. I'm not opposed to religion as a concept. It can be a wonderful tool for a lot of people, but I've never felt the need for it. I began to question the entire idea of it at a very early age. It just never made much sense to me. I'm not saying I'm better than anyone else, I've just never felt that believing in eternal damnation in death would help me be a better person in life. I can do that on my own … you're gonna get e-mails because of me, aren't you?"

She smiles. "Probably."

He chuckles. "Well, I apologize for that. Religion isn't the problem; people are. Believe what you want. Just don't trod on the basic human rights of others. And if you're going to anyway, don't blame your god for your prejudice. You're the bigot, not him. Or her. It's simple."

Strong words. He's right, of course, but she knows damn well that at least a portion of her American audience is going to take issue with this atheist Brit telling them how to think. "How do you feel about that?" she asks Tom.

"I agree with him," Tom says simply. "You don't need religion in order to be good."

"That's interesting. I remember several years ago when I visited you at your beautiful home in Colorado, I was blown away by the breathtaking view right outside your front door and you said to me, you said, 'There's no way you could be up here and think that there isn't a god.' Do you remember that?"

Simon raises his eyebrows and looks expectantly at Tom. Tom smiles nervously. "I remember that, yes."

"Do you still believe that? This is yet another gorgeous location." She gestures at one of the many big windows in the space, outside of which mountains loom in the distance and evergreens blanket the earth. "How do you reconcile those words of yours with the beliefs of your partner?"

Simon has a little smile on his face, so he's clearly not too bothered as he awaits Tom's answer.

"H'oh boy," Tom laughs. "That interview happened, what, four years ago?"

"Mm-hm," she confirms, nodding and smiling at him serenely.

"I was a different person then. My beliefs haven't changed; I look out at places like this and I _know_ God is present. I feel it. But it would be shortsighted of me to sit here and say that my way is the only way. You can't be like that."

"Good answer," Simon says to him.

"You like that, huh?" Tom asks him with a little grin.

"Yeah, you did good, T.C."

"He made it outta the dog house, then?" Ophelia asks Simon.

Simon pats Tom's thigh. "Sure, we'll let him live this time."

"Simon, what do you see when you look at this view, at these mountains?"

"Erosion," Simon sighs, sounding a bit bored. "I know it's beautiful. I'm as amazed by it as you are. The world is a fascinating and often shockingly gorgeous place. My lack of belief in a higher power doesn't make it any less wondrous to me. But it's not mysterious or magical."

"Obviously you knew Tom believed in God before you started seeing him. Did his beliefs give you pause when he admitted his feelings to you?"

"No, I didn't even think about it. Literally, it didn't occur to me. If he was willing to look past my atheism, I had no reason to think his beliefs would become a problem for me down the line."

"What about you, Tom?"

"I knew about his religious views when I asked him out," Tom says.

"A lot of people feel that a partner who shares their beliefs is important. Did you not feel that way?"

"No. He's good and he's kind. That's what matters to me."

"He's quite outspoken. His words on this show might cause some controversy."

"I have no doubt that they will," Tom says with a smile.

"You've had your fair share of controversy over the years. I'd think you'd want to steer clear of statements like the ones Simon's just made."

"If I wasn't comfortable with who he is, I wouldn't be sitting here with him. I fully support his right to believe what he wants. He's an intelligent, educated man. You can't think otherwise just because he's atheist."

Interesting. She wonders if his tune would've been the same four years ago. That interview they did in Colorado; he was there to show her audience that he was one of them, just a guy. A God-fearing American.

Now his agenda seems different. Yes, he still wants to show that he's a regular guy, but there's not an ounce of pandering. He's not here to appease or change minds. In some people's eyes he's damaged goods, and for some these latest developments in his life are the final nail in his coffin. She gets the impression that he couldn't care less. And Simon sure as hell doesn't care. He's not reckless by any means, but he's completely unapologetic about who he is.

They talk about Tom's kids and how they get along with Simon. Naturally, both men give the impression that everything is sunshine and roses, that there are many get-togethers and outings and that Simon even spends time with the kids on his own. She _has_ seen paparazzi photos of him out with Tom's youngest, taking her shopping, getting ice cream. Tom says that she refers to Simon simply by his name. Simon says that her calling him anything else would feel odd to him.

Their parents and siblings are one hundred percent on board with the relationship as well.

"You should see our mothers when they get together," Tom says with a smile.

"They get along well?" she asks.

"Oh yeah, it's dreadful," says Simon, lamenting all the embarrassing childhood stories that are exchanged between the two women. "His mum reminds me a lot of my own, actually. Brilliant lady. I'm not surprised she and my mum get on so well. They have a lot in common."

"He calls her 'Mum the 2nd'," Tom says.

Ophelia raises her eyebrows at Simon. "Already?"

"I – well …" Simon stammers. "It started as a joke, but it sort of stuck. Don't read anything into it! Our engagement status hasn't changed in the last twenty minutes."

Their friends couldn't be happier for them. Simon's friend and colleague Nick has bonded with Tom over many things, including their shared love of sports and good food.

"He is _the_ most amazing chef," Tom says with utmost seriousness. "Just phenomenal. To see this man move around a kitchen, wield a chopping knife, it's like he was born to cook. The last time we went to his place for dinner – we brought the kids along too – he made this tart thing for dessert … what was it called?"

"Tart Tatin," Simon says with nice French pronunciation.

"Right! It was fantastic. _Everything_ was fantastic. He'd been cooking for us all day. He is a great guy. One of the funniest people I've ever met."

When asked about his experience with Tom's friends, Simon talks about the friends that most people watching will be interested in hearing about, the Beckhams. He points to his shirt and says, "This is from her. Vicky sent me this."

"Posh sends you clothes?" Ophelia asks with a smile.

"Yeah. When we met, I thought I looked all right; nice shirt-and-trousers combo. She said – and she was very sweet about it – she said she thought I could pull off something a little less 'stuffy'. That was the word she used." He laughs. "Apparently I needed a makeover."

"She loves him, she thinks he's great," Tom says. "She thinks he's good for me."

"In what way?" Ophelia asks.

"She says that I needed a cooler, younger man in my life."

Simon laughs. "She's a sweetheart, but I am not cooler than you."

"You're being modest."

"Come on, baby, no one's cooler than you."

Ophelia suddenly feels like a third wheel as the two men exchange murmured compliments while gazing at each other. Simon's "baby" just underscores the intimacy of the moment. It feels like it should be private.

She discreetly checks camera one, making sure the person manning it knows where the money is and is getting a tight shot of the couple as they exchange sweet nothings, bedroom-y looks and sheepish smiles. Tom says something charming, making Simon laugh – giggle, really. He is often uncomfortable about being complimented but now he can't help but be charmed, flattered, and downright seduced. The moment ends with their hands locked in a hand sandwich, with Tom's hand in the center, and Simon sitting even closer, close enough that their legs are touching.

"He's smooth, innee?" says Simon to her, a hint of a dopey grin still on his face.

"Incredibly," she agrees. "I don't believe for a second that you can't flirt, Tom."

Tom laughs. "I have my moments."

Back to Simon: "Do you not consider yourself 'cool' enough for him?"

Simon shrugs. "I'm not sure that's important, really. I mean, for a while it was all the media could talk about when they talked about us, even going as far as nicknaming us 'the jock and the _nerd_ '." He says the last word with a hint of a sneer. "It's what I was talking about earlier, about how people love labels. It's easier to think of us as polar opposites, two-dimensional caricatures straight out of a high school comedy, rather than real people with diverse personalities."

"You _have_ become something of a nerd icon for many," she points out.

He grimaces a little and says, "Arguably. It's nice that some of my work has resonated so strongly for people. It's true that people have sort of labeled me a pop culture nerd, but really I'm a film nerd if anything. Like him." He nods at Tom. "To call him a jock is ridiculous. The word has a bit of a negative connotation. It suggests he's some big, dumb muscle-head whose entire life is sports, and that's not him. Yeah, he's athletic and he likes sports and fast cars, but he's more than that. He's brilliant. He's clever and he's funny and he's thoughtful. He's a beautiful soul. I've always hated how the media instantly reduced us to stereotypes."

"Do you not like being seen as a nerd?"

"I just don't want that to be all people see when they look at me. It's true that I like some childish things. I'm not ashamed of that, but I'm also completely comfortable in my adulthood."

They've pretty much covered everything she wanted to, so now they talk about their upcoming projects. They're both quite busy, and listening to them talk about what they're up to film-wise, it strikes her what a powerhouse they are as a couple. She decides not to mention it, not wanting to embarrass them, but the fact is, right now they are nothing short of a Hollywood royal couple.

"So, what's next for the two of you?" she asks when the plugging is all done and they've come back from a commercial break. "Could you maybe do another film together, outside of the _Mission: Impossible_ franchise?"

They exchange a glance.

"I'm game if you are," Simon says. "What do you say? Same-sex romantic comedy?"

Tom grins. "It could happen." He looks at her again. "Who knows?"

"Would you seriously consider that?" she asks Tom.

"Sure. It's definitely on the table. If I get a script I like. It all depends on the script, always."

"What about a same-sex love scene?"

"With Simon?"

"Sure. Or any male actor."

Tom replies with a twinkle in his eye, "Anything could happen."

"And what about in your personal life? Have you discussed the idea of more children?"

"You're worse than our mothers," Simon says.

"We haven't, no," Tom tells her. "We haven't thought that far ahead yet."

"But it's not out of the question," she says.

The two men exchange another look. Simon shrugs noncommittally while Tom grins at him. Tom then says to her, "We haven't ruled it out."

That feels like a good place to end. She thanks them both, they thank her too, and she says a few final words to the camera before they stop rolling.

* * *

After the official interview ends, the couple takes her on a tour of the rest of the house with a camera person in tow. They show her around the rustic kitchen; the living room with the huge flat screen; the back deck, which sits on a spacious second-floor balcony that encircles half the house, complete with a pool and hot tub; the second-floor rooms for the kids. The third floor, where the master bedroom is, is off limits. She can't help but glance longingly at the stairs leading up to the third floor as they go by them on their way back down to the main floor. What does their bedroom look like? What's on their nightstands?

She realizes that she's not even questioning anymore whether or not they actually share a bed. She'd expected to leave the house still not really knowing the truth, but that's changed now. She's gone from questioning their entire relationship to musing about what their private bathroom looks like and if they have matching His and His sinks.

The tour ends and it's almost time for her to go, but Tom insists she stay a bit longer and have something to eat. Back downstairs, the equipment is being removed from the big room. Wonderful food smells and the hum of conversation are coming from the kitchen where a buffet-style feast is being set up by catering. The crew is already helping themselves, talking and laughing, kicking back around the big kitchen table, or going outside to the ground-floor backyard where another, much longer table awaits to accommodate them.

After spending time eating and talking with the group, Ophelia, Tom and Simon drift back out into the big room where the interview took place. All the equipment is gone now, and it's much quieter here, especially when Tom slides closed the big wooden door that separates the room from the kitchen. They settle at the bar with their food and drinks. Ophelia sits next to Simon and takes the opportunity to pick his brain a bit more. Tom hovers close, behind the bar, leaned against it, sipping fizzy apple-orange-ginger-flavored punch from a glass and listening to their conversation. This is the first time they've all been able to talk alone, without any recording equipment or other people present.

Simon is just as pleasant and easy to talk to now as he was in front of the cameras. All his tension seems to truly be gone. Tom doesn't interject unless addressed, letting Simon have this conversation all to himself.

Because he's proud, Ophelia thinks. He's in love and wants to show Simon off, away from the cameras. She glances at Tom every now and then and finds him watching Simon with quiet affection.

"How do you really feel about doing this type of interview?" she asks Simon.

"It's quite strange when you think about it," Simon says to her. "It's difficult to understand why we're so fascinating. But then I remember what it was like when I first met him, how larger-than-life he seemed. Anytime I've met one of my idols, I've had a million questions. So I understand it, but it's just different when it's you, I suppose."

"I think you _are_ quite fascinating."

"Really? After the sorts of people you've interviewed? Nelson Mandela, award-winning authors, survivors of horrible tragedies, erm … that lady who yells at people about their awful finances."

"There are different types of fascinating. No, you're not world leaders, but hearing your story, seeing you on TV, is going to affect people, more positively than negatively. It will change opinions about a lot of things, I guarantee you that."

"I hope so," he says quietly. He looks thoughtful as he lowers his eyes to the crumb-sprinkled plate before him from which he'd been eating little finger sandwiches. She wonders what he's thinking. She lets him have a moment before she speaks again.

"I didn't make you nervous, did I?" she asks, lowering her volume to match his now somber tone.

He looks at her again and offers her a smile. "No, you were great. It was fun, actually. You're lovely. You're quite beautiful and ethereal."

She smiles at that. "Oh, well, aren't you sweet."

"And you smell wonderful, like lavender … and money."

Now she laughs out loud. "You stop. You need to stop."

"No, but seriously, it was strange at first; cameras in the house and all, but you really put me at ease."

Simon can dish out compliments as easily as Tom can. He is often cast as the awkward man-child, but he seems right at home as the charmer. It comes too easily to him. Has she won him over or not? The way he'd sized her up early on in the interview, with that cold, suspicious gaze; all the anxiety she'd clearly caused him. Is all that forgotten now?

"You know, I did my research on you," she says.

"Uh-oh. Did I live up to your expectations?"

"I'd say so. Exceeded them, even."

Her vague wording is deliberate and she thinks Simon knows it. He gives her a smile. Not a "thank you", just a smile, then he looks away and sips his punch. Did she just compliment him? Most people would've taken it as such. But Simon knows damn well it was ambiguous.

And again, she wonders what he's thinking. Does he think that she's still suspicious of the entire relationship, or does he realize that it's just him she hasn't quite figured out? She's pretty sure that he's genuinely in love with Tom, but how on earth does he feel about her? She has no idea. He flip-flops from full-body tension to relaxed and casual; suspicious glances to bright, inviting smiles; watching her warily to cracking jokes and calling her beautiful. He's a chameleon. An actor. So, what _is_ the truth?

More and more she sees why he makes such a good match for Tom. He's smart, he can handle the media well. There's something almost detached in the way he deals with her. On the surface he appears warm and open – he smiles easily, has an infectious laugh and kind eyes – but he is careful about what he says, and what he _does_ say is often delivered with clinical ease. The few times he's shown genuine emotion today have been during little moments of connection with Tom. With her, he simply delivered his lines. He is keeping her at arm's length while making it appear otherwise, to appease her.

Which is fine, and makes perfect sense. He doesn't know her. If it hadn't been for his suspicious gaze earlier, she wouldn't even be thinking this hard about what's going on in his head.

By the time their conversation peters out, Tom has migrated to their side of the bar and is standing close to Simon, a hand on his back. Simon looks over at him and a silent exchange occurs. Then Simon says to her, "I'll be back. Little boys' room."

Tom watches him leave, then looks at her with a twinkle in his eye.

"So," she says.

"So," he says back, taking Simon's seat. "We're alone. No cameras. What do you wanna know?"

She smiles. "You think I don't believe all this?"

"I think you're wondering what my angle is."

"Do you have an angle?"

"No. What you see is what you get."

She breaks off a bite-size piece of one of the little cream-and-jelly-filled sandwich cookies she'd snagged from the buffet, pops it into her mouth and chews as she glances around the room. "You seem happy," she says just before swallowing. She meets his eyes again to catch his reaction. What she gets is his full-on brilliant smile, a sheepish glance downward.

"I am," he replies. When he looks at her again he looks calm, downright serene, and somewhat defiant all at once. "But you're still skeptical."

"You think so?" she asks.

"That's your job, isn't it?"

"My job is to find truth. Skepticism is part of that, but it can only take you so far. I _was_ skeptical, but now? I think this is possibly the healthiest I've ever seen you."

He nods at that, but offers no confirmation or denial. "You like him?" he asks instead.

"He's hard not to like."

Tom smiles again. "Yeah. He is."

Maybe that's it, she thinks. The public can be harshly, unjustly critical of women, _any_ woman. She ruminates on that bitterly for a moment while eating her cookie. A man, however; a man is different.

Of course the more liberal attitudes of the present day are a huge factor; Tom is publicly with a man now because he can be. But still, she wonders.

Simon's career is no more an accident than Tom's is. Is he talented? Yes. But talented people fail everyday. Simon has made his way into some of entertainment's biggest franchises, into the public's collective consciousness, despite the odds, despite that every-man quality he has because he's _not_ every man. He's determined, dedicated, sharp, focused. He knew what he wanted, and here he is, living his dream. And on top of all of that, he's genuinely likable. Or at least can act like he is.

A beautiful woman, no matter how good a person she is, is easy for the public to turn on for an infraction as minor as wearing the wrong pair of jeans. But a funny, affable guy? And a British one to boot, with that accent that Americans just eat right up? Simon's controversial statements aside, it's really a no-brainer.

So maybe that's why he was chosen. He is a collection of coveted qualities and talents, complete with an established fan base, all wrapped in an unassuming package. He is his own little kingdom. A controversial enough choice to garner attention, but so difficult to dislike that any fallout is tempered by what a cute couple he and Tom make.

But what's she saying here, that she doesn't think this relationship is real? She's long past that. Tom was doing just fine on his own. If Simon's a kingdom, then Tom is an empire. Neither man needed the other. This relationship is no business arrangement. No, now she's thinking that the truth can be used to manipulate as easily as a lie.

She supposes Tom's right; she is still a little skeptical, but not in the way he thinks she is.

Maybe she should just let it go already. Tom is happy. And she likes him as a person. She's never not liked him. So, let him be happy.

Except …

"I am still curious about one thing," she admits.

"Shoot," he tells her.

"How your courtship really began." She leaves it at that, looks at him sidelong and waits.

He smiles again, bites his lower lip, nods. "Let me ask you this: what do _you_ think happened?"

"I think you and he were already lovers when you attended that game together."

His eyebrows go up and he nods again. She can't tell if he's impressed or not. "Interesting," he says.

"Am I close?"

"Close. But no cigar."

"You know, Tom, I have connections all over the world. If I want to find something – _anything_ – I can."

"And?"

"And … there is no evidence of you and Simon dining at any restaurants in Vancouver that night. Or, in fact, in all of British Columbia."

"Huh," he says. He takes a cookie from Simon's plate, breaks off a small piece and adds, "Interesting," before putting it in his mouth.

"And before you try it, there's no record of any private aircraft landings or takeoffs in B.C. that night either. The two of you stayed in the city after the game and just … disappeared. No one saw you again all night long. What did you do, go back to your hotel suite?"

He hesitates but he's smiling a subtle, lopsided little smile. If he's annoyed with her questions, he's hiding it well. He seems to be enjoying this game of cat and mouse. "Yeah," he replies quietly, looking at her coolly.

" _Separate_ hotel suites?"

Another hesitation. His tongue pokes around inside his mouth, nudging at cookie that is now lodged in his teeth. Then finally he says with that same cool, calm amusement, "No."

"Ah. There it is."

He shrugs and breaks off more cookie to eat. "It wasn't planned," he says casually.

"It just happened?"

"Yup," he says with a mouthful.

"But you _were_ kissing his ear at that game."

He nods, still chewing. "Mm-hm."

"Tom. I have never known you to be so reckless."

"What?" he asks innocently.

"You weren't out at that time. Neither was he. You were in the middle of a packed hockey arena with cameras everywhere and you chose _that_ moment to tell – no, to _physically show_ him how you felt?"

"Heh," Tom chuckles. He stops eating and just sits there, shaking his head and staring off at nothing. "I just … I was in love," he says simply and looks at her again. "I had to let it out."

"By kissing his ear in public?"

"Well, actually, if you want the truth … I touched his thigh first."

"Tom!"

He shrugs again. "Like I said before, all or nothing. It was well out of sight of any cameras. I thought I was getting signals from him. He seemed interested. And he was, but apparently he wasn't trying to broadcast that. I dunno. All I know is, it happened. And here we are."

"Has it been as perfect as you both make it out to be?"

He looks at her sidelong. "Come on."

She laughs, and it's not just because he's being cute. It's a relieved sort of laugh, because in all the years they've known each other, they've never spoken this candidly before. "Candid" for a celebrity often isn't candid at all. It's controlled and calculated. This is refreshing. She's so accustomed to celebrities obfuscating and downright lying, even after the cameras stop rolling, that this is a welcome change.

"Don't get me wrong," he says. "It's been amazing. We're happy and things are running smoothly now. But no, of course it hasn't been perfect. There've been misunderstandings. I've had to learn to listen more; he's had to learn to open up. We both had to learn to trust each other. We're people. Shit happens."

"Why tell me this now? We've always had a good relationship, a mutually beneficial one. But you've never been this candid with me, not about your love life. Why now? What's different?"

"It's just not that serious anymore. Don't misunderstand; Jane Pauley isn't gonna get this side of me. Barbara Walters isn't gonna get this side of me. You're different. Of all the people who've interviewed me over the years, you're the one I consider a friend. Not a 'celebrity' friend. A real one. You've always been good to me, but not fake. Never fake. You call me out on my bullshit when you need to, and I appreciate that. _Now_ I do. Fifty-year-old me does. Also … good people who accept you as you are and want nothing from you aren't easy to come by. So, after all this time, I owe you this."

She smiles and holds out her hand to him. "Okay. Friends. Real friends."

He takes her hand and just holds onto it as he says, "Friends."

After a little squeeze, she releases his hand and says again, "So."

"So."

"As long as we're being candid … what's really going on with the church?"

He smiles a knowing smile. He's not surprised this has come up again, but nothing about him changes; he's still an open book to her for the time being. "What do you wanna know?"

"What do they think of him, really? Of the two of you together."

He eats more cookie and says in a hushed voice, "It's been less of an issue than you might think. Attitudes really have changed a lot over the years."

"So, they recognize Simon as your partner, even though he's an atheist man?"

"Yeah … but …"

"But?"

"I've … made the decision to begin limiting my involvement with them."

She sits up a little. "Really? Why?"

He shrugs. "A lot of reasons. Not just Simon."

"Not _just_ Simon?" She nods. "You said it was _less_ of an issue, not that there wasn't an issue at all."

He looks at her and says, "Later. Not here."

Ah. This isn't the best time to discuss this, with a room full of people right next door. "Yeah. Okay. We'll talk."

"I'll call you," he promises.

Right on cue, Simon reappears, coming back in through the kitchen. "Sorry I took so long," he says as he slides the big wooden door closed behind him. "I got a call. Work stuff."

"No, it's okay. I should be going anyway," Ophelia says, standing up. "I've been in your hair too long now."

Tom assures her that's not the case, but she really does have to get going. Now with full stomachs, the crew starts heading out as well. They gather what equipment hasn't already been stashed in the vans parked outside and start filing out of the house. Ophelia, Tom and Simon make small talk as they, too, make their way outside. They make plans to get together again soon, without the cameras. At the base of the stone steps, Ophelia turns to her hosts to hug and cheek-kiss them goodbye.

"You know what?" Tom says as he releases her. "I'm just gonna go talk to your producer for a second, make sure we got everything."

"I'm pretty sure we did," she says to him.

"Yeah, me too, but just … I'll be right back. Don't leave yet." He looks at Simon, touches his arm, gives it a squeeze. Another silent communication. Then he's off.

"Is everything all right?" she asks.

"Erm … yeah." Simon gives her an awkward smile and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, everything's fine. He just … he _really_ wants you and me to get on well. I think he's giving us a minute to touch base once more."

"Ah. He knows you still don't trust me."

If he's surprised at her statement, it barely registers on his face. He takes a single beat before saying, "It's not that I don't trust you" –

She gives him a knowing look. "It's okay. You're still wary of me and I don't blame you. You don't know me like he does."

"It's just … you're a journalist."

"I haven't been a journalist for over three decades."

"But you _were_ one. And now you're a daytime chat show host. Possibly the classiest chat show ever, but still."

"Like I said, I don't blame you for your caution. You don't have to trust me right away. Or ever. It's not me you're marrying. Or, sorry, _might_ be marrying."

She lets herself sound playfully sarcastic with those last words. Simon gives her a wary sidelong look. She gives him a hopefully reassuring smile.

"He didn't tell me," she says. "I could just tell. I'm not going to tell anyone. You know that."

He looks away. "Yeah, I know. From what I know of you, you're not the type to go spilling secrets." He looks at her again. " _Did_ he tell you anything?"

"Hm?"

"Inside while I was gone."

"Oh, uh … well, the restaurant was a lie. You all spent that night together in bed."

Simon looks down and shuffles his feet. "Yeah, we did."

"That's all, really."

"So now you know that this didn't start with grand romanticism, but rather with a cheeky grope at a hockey game and what I believed at the time to be a one-night stand."

"Oh, you didn't think it would go anywhere?"

"Course not. I wasn't sure what was in his head, not at first. I mean, I knew he liked me and that I made him feel sort of safe, I guess." Simon looks over to the vans where Tom is animatedly conversing with Ophelia's staff and the crew, smiling, joking, being his charming self. "He said he could just be himself with me, that he'd felt that way with me nearly from the start. It takes a while for him to trust, and rightfully so, but with me … he just knew. I make him …" He pauses there, smiles to himself, lowers his gaze to the ground.

"What?" she urges.

"It's stupid. I mean, it's not stupid to us, but to anyone else it would sound ridiculous."

"I've heard a lotta things over the years. Tom's life isn't nearly the strangest."

Simon still hesitates, but after a few seconds he finally says, without looking at her, "He says that I give him vertigo. In a good way, if that makes any bloody sense." He's watches Tom across the driveway as he speaks. "He's kind of a stuntman at heart. You know? He loves doing that shit. He said it's the same with me; being with me is like hanging off the tallest building in the world. Like flying. He loves that feeling, that pull at his stomach. That's what I am to him. I'm that pull, that thrill, that freedom." He pauses and rolls his eyes. "Christ, it does sound ridiculous, doesn't it?" But then he smiles to himself, just a little, and there's that soft look in his eyes, the same one she'd seen earlier, during the interview.

"No, it's nice," she says, and she means it. "What is he to you?"

Simon thinks for a moment, then he looks her in the eye with an unwavering gaze and simply replies, "He's everything to me. I can be vulnerable with him and trust that he'll catch me if I fall."

It's a simple answer, much less detailed and passionate than what he'd said about Tom. In fact, he delivered it like he was reciting something off a piece of paper, looking her in the eye as though trying too hard to show that he wasn't lying.

He looks away again and an awkward silence falls between them. It's a normal gesture, looking away, but somehow it feels like a door's been closed in her face. She goes over the last minute of their conversation. What just happened here? There was definitely a marked difference in his demeanor when he was talking about Tom's feelings. But that doesn't make any sense. Why would he be comfortable spilling Tom's secrets and not his own?

Well, one thing is clear: this man does not trust her as far as he can throw her.

"I am sorry that I doubted your relationship," she says. She's perfectly fine with him shutting her out, but she needs him to know that she's changed her tune about him and Tom. "It wasn't anything to do with you personally."

"Was it anything to do with _him_?" he asks, this time without missing a beat, looking her in the eye again.

She refrains from wincing at the question, but her hesitation is enough to make him look away again with a little puff of air from his nose and a shake of his head.

"Simon" – she begins.

"Don't."

"No, listen, I need you to understand. That's my job, to seek truth. And what's real with him hasn't always been clear. Maybe it is to those who know him best, but I'm not one of those people. We've always had a good working relationship, but not a real friendship, not until now. It's not about not wanting to trust him. It's just that in the past he's given me reason to be cautious about that. But things are different now. Does that make sense?"

He hesitates, gives her the most minute of nods and says nothing.

"You're a pretty interesting guy, Simon," she says.

"Oh?"

"Mm-hm. You didn't want to do this interview, but you did it anyway. Why? If you dislike the media so much, why bother?"

He shrugs. "We've all got jobs to do. This is part of mine; wrapping my relationship up in a pretty package and selling it to the public like something on an infomercial. That's part of my job now."

"Have you always felt this way about the media or is it just since you've been with him? I ask because I know that if you weren't with him, things might be a little different for you now."

He finally looks at her again and she notices for the first time how steely blue his eyes are. They flash at her in the sunlight. "I love him," he says, and it almost sounds like that's his entire answer, but he continues. "I suppose I can't really blame you for doubting that. You've probably been lied to a million times in your career. Still … you asked us how we felt about speculation that I'm only with him to further my own career. Believe it or not I was being diplomatic when I answered that. It fucking pisses me off. I shouldn't even care, but I do. We're people. _You_ know what it's like for us. You're scrutinized as much as we are. You know how much it hurts when your feelings, your words, your relationships are questioned for no other reason than the number of people who know your name or how much money you make. So when you waltz in here and question us, when you ask us personal, humiliating questions about things that are nobody's business, not just for your audience but also for your own morbid curiosity, when you sit in our living room and use us for your ratings while doubting something that is so important to us, it really, _really_ fucking upsets me."

He looks away and clenches his jaw. "It's just kinda fucked up, you know? I know that in our line of work we don't really have a choice. Promotion is so much a part of what we do, we need you almost more than you need us. But it is really, really fucked up. Because he's been burned so fucking much by you people, but he still needs you. He still invites you into his home. And yeah, maybe you're different than the rest, but you're still one of them."

She nods. She isn't one bit surprised, of course. But rather than deterring her, Simon's confession has only intrigued her. He'll lie when he needs to. She's seen him outright lie about details of films he's promoting, things that needed to be kept secret. So he has no problem bending the truth for press interviews (or can at least set aside his qualms if he has them). But here, he is being honest about feelings he needn't have shared with her. And it didn't take much to get it out of him; his facade had broken down before she'd even asked. She is, as he said, one of "them". Why not continue the lie?

"It was when I started asking about his past relationships," she says. "That's when your attitude shifted."

"Was on the fence about you before that," he admits.

She cocks her head. "Why? Did you not expect me to ask?"

"Figured you might. Hoped you wouldn't."

"But you know those questions had been approved by him. You knew there was the possibility that they'd be used."

He looks at her with his blank and yet somehow judgmental gaze. "And why do you think he did that? Because he had to. Because if he'd done an interview like this, with someone as big as you, about his first public relationship with a man, and didn't bother answering even one question about his past relationships, he'd never hear the end of it. He didn't do it because he wanted to. He did it because he knew that if he didn't, he'd only be fueling the fire."

"Exactly. We had to get those questions out of the way. He knows, I know, _you_ know that it's better to say something, _anything_ , than nothing at all."

"So, you did it for him, then, I suppose," he retorts bitterly. "You asked him if he really loved the mothers of his children, you asked him degrading questions about his sex life because you were just doin' 'im a solid? Is that what I'm to believe?"

His accent gets a little heavier when he's upset, apparently. The rigid tension he'd held in his body earlier is back; his hands are still in his pockets, but he holds his arms close at his sides, not relaxed at all.

She, on the other hand, remains calm. She's been known to wear her heart on her sleeve and tear up at the drop of a hat, but not in situations like this. She can stare down any stubborn or hostile interviewee without blinking a false eyelash.

"Those questions needed to be asked, bottom line," she says calmly. "You don't think perhaps he agreed for publicity's sake? He's still a big-budget actor, he still needs to remain relevant" –

"Don't you dare," Simon cuts her off. He looks upset, but mostly he just looks hurt. "He's been backed into a corner. Throw the dogs a bone lest they come for your leg. _Publicity?_ You don't think there are less humiliating ways to get attention? You've known him for years, you think that's the sort of person he is?"

He's got a point there. That's definitely not Tom.

"I know him," he says. "I don't know _you_. I don't know why you had to ask the questions. I know why he needed to allow them, but don't stand there and lie to me and tell me that his best interests were your motive. You've got your own agenda."

"So, why tell me this at all? Why not continue the charade? Smile and be charming, kiss-kiss-hug-hug, 'see you during awards season'."

"Because he likes you. He calls you friend. And although I can't make myself feel the same, I do trust his judgment. You asked me pointblank what my problem is. If you hadn't, I wouldn't have said shit, but you did, so I'm doing you the courtesy of being honest. Because you seem to matter to him. So I'm not going to be fake with you, not when the cameras are off and he's not within earshot. I'll always be civil, though. You can count on that."

"I appreciate that. That's kind of you."

"I'm not being kind. I'm being logical. I might be angry, but I'm not irrational."

Okay, she gets it now. She thinks about what he said before, about being afraid to give himself away to strangers bit by bit, the quiet hostility in his voice as he spoke of "selling" his relationship to the public like some cheap piece of infomercial garbage. Simon is no fan of the press or celebrity culture. And she's not just a former journalist or a talk show host to him. She is _the_ former journalist and talk show host who was at the eye of the shit storm that Tom went through. And now she's been in their home.

It doesn't matter that her show's been on the air for thirty years or that she's the most trusted talk show host in television today. It doesn't matter that people in his career are inextricably linked with people in hers. She is the enemy and an intruder. She imagines that this beautiful place, his and Tom's little Canadian hideaway, feels tainted to him now.

She and he might never be friends and that's okay. He's only looking out for his partner. God, she thinks, if the world could see him now – staring her down, defending his man's honor – they would no longer doubt the validity of the relationship.

But they won't see it. He's slipped up before, become too passionate in at least one interview that she's seen, and was probably chastised for it by publicists and agents. He won't make that mistake again. But damn, she wishes the world could see it one more time. The public has a short memory for most things. The intensity of that one outburst has probably been long forgotten and/or chalked up to Simon kissing his boss's ass. Now that he and Tom are out, people need to be reminded of how real those feelings are.

People will watch this interview when it's broadcast, and the doubters will miss the genuine little moments; the glances, the smiles, the undeniable need to touch. All they'll see is the slight downward glance when Tom lies about this, or the extra bit of fidgeting when Simon lies about that. Such a shame. What needs to be heard are the unpretty bits, the real bits, like the truth about how they began, or the truth about how the church feels about them, or like Simon's raw anger at the situation he feels he and Tom are trapped in.

But the public will be fed the perfectly airbrushed version of events; the trailer full of roses, the motorcycle ride, the romantic dinners; things that won't convince anyone who's not already on board. Everyone's seen that stuff a million times on the big and small screen. Those things are cute and obviously meaningful to Tom and Simon, but they're ultimately contrived. Any two-bit screenwriter could come up with that stuff.

The act of observation changes the observed. So the public will never see the realness she's seen today.

"For what it's worth," she says, "I think you're really good for him."

He glances sidelong at her. Some of that icy fire has left his eyes. "Thank you," he says. He seems to cautiously believe her.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"If you still don't trust me, why would you confide in me the way you did about how Tom feels about you? I know Tom told you that you could trust me, but still. Do you always open up like that to people just because someone tells you to?"

"Depends on the someone."

She nods. "Did he also tell you what to tell me?"

"Sorry?"

"You told me nothing about yourself. That little spiel about how he feels about you was beautiful, but it was strictly about him. After that you shut right down. And after what I've seen of the two of you together today, I don't believe for a second that you'd spill secrets of his to anyone without his permission, not even someone he expressly told you to be honest with. They're not your secrets to tell. Unless he told you that you could."

"When on earth would he have told me that?"

"Before I got here. Because he knows you, knows how wary you are of the media, knows that you're not about to cozy up to one of us. You all probably argued about an interview like this for months before today. He wants things to go smoothly between you and me, because he loves you and respects me. Because you two have a symbiotic relationship with people like me. Because he and I have a good relationship now and he wants the same for the two of us. So he made it easy for you, so you wouldn't have to give anything of yourself today if you didn't want to. He knew that I'd be skeptical and he didn't want your mistrust exacerbating that. What did he tell you? That if you didn't want to talk about yourself you could always steer the conversation back to him?"

"Why wouldn't I just make something up if I wanted to fool you? Why would I tell you so much about how he feels?"

"Because truth can be used to manipulate just as easily as a lie. And is easier to pull off. You demonstrated that perfectly a moment ago."

He stares coldly at her in silence for a moment, then says, "I haven't lied to you today. Apart from the things he's already come clean about and whatever else you've worked out on your own."

"Oh, is that all?"

He narrows his eyes at her. "What I said about being able to be vulnerable with him was true."

"You felt nothing when you said those words."

"I don't deny that. Yeah, I closed off. The words were true but I said them on autopilot."

Ah. He'd felt something while discussing Tom's feelings and had shown her as much. He hadn't wanted to expose himself like that to her twice.

"Like I said, I don't blame you for your wariness," she says. "And I meant it when I said I think you're good for him. You're honest and unafraid and a fierce protector. That's nice. That's sweet. He needs that. He's all heart. He needs someone who'll be in his corner and treat him gently."

The way his jaw muscles twitch tells her that he doesn't like that she makes so much sense and really seems to care for Tom. He's right; she had her own agenda when she'd first arrived. But she's leaving here feeling protective of them both, and that's become evident to him. He wanted to dislike her, if not outright hate her. But he can't. She won't let him. Actually, he may very well hate her just for that.

There's silence for a moment as Simon looks across the driveway at Tom again, then he says, "My feelings for him _were_ pretty immediate, actually."

She isn't sure where that's coming from but is intrigued. "Um … oh?"

He licks his lips and continues: "It was my first day on set, first time working with him. I was nervous, kept flubbing my lines. It was my first big Hollywood film and I had this long monologue I had to deliver. And Tom … he was so patient. He was …" He smiles to himself. "He was good to me. He should've been annoyed. I just could _not_ get my shit together, I was holding things up. But he was just reassuring and helpful and calm. I know he's like that with everyone. But he has a way of making you feel like you're the only one." He pauses again, looks thoughtfully down at the ground. "He made me feel like I belonged there, on that set, in that movie with him. I _did_ belong there, but I psyched myself out. I dunno … maybe I fell in love with him that day. I certainly couldn't stop thinking about him when I went back to my hotel." He shakes his head, frowns at himself. "That's stupid. But that's how he makes you feel, like maybe love at first sight is possible."

He looks at her again, and for a second she catches something a little vulnerable on his face, but it's gone in an instant. He clears his throat and goes back to looking at her a little bit down his nose and with an unreadable non-expression. "There. Happy now?"

"You really didn't have to tell me that."

"Yeah, well … thought I ought to clear that up, since I'd just told you I hadn't lied to you today. I would never have said all that on camera."

"Why?"

He scrunches up his face. "It's unprofessional, innit? Lusting after your costar. That's not what I want people to think of me, that I turn up to set and start ogling my cast mates. That isn't who I am, he's just … it's hard to meet him and not walk away with a dopey grin on your face."

She nods. "Thank you. I'm honored that you'd share that with me. But while I know what you just told me is sincere, I also know that you're still trying to manipulate me."

"'Manipulate' is a strong word. I'm not trying to trick you here. It's just that maybe, _maybe_ , this gap between us isn't completely unbridgeable. You really care about him. Apparently. I wasn't expecting that and I don't take it lightly … you still make me uneasy, though."

"That's okay."

"If I catch wind of you saying _anything_ even _remotely_ disparaging about him" –

"You won't. I never have."

He examines her face as though he doesn't quite believe her, but he does it with a kind of cool, detached sort of respect. He gives her a little nod and she returns it. They seem to have come to some sort of agreement. Not friends, but allies certainly. He holds out his hand to her. "It's been interesting meeting you, Miss Humphrey."

She takes that hand and shakes it. "You as well. It's always nice to make a new celebrity friend."

Simon glances toward Tom again and says, "We should hug. Signal that we're finished talking."

"Oh, you don't mind hugging the enemy again?"

"Well, I wasn't lying when I said you smell nice."

Tom must notice their signal because he hurries back over. They're all smiles and compliments and see-you-soons when he gets there. They put on a good show for him because as far as he's concerned she doesn't know that Simon hasn't really let her in.

She's been duped before in her time as a talk show host, but nine times out of ten she can spot a sham from a mile off. The sham she found today wasn't the one she thought she'd find, and she's happy about that. Simon's mistrust of her only speaks to how real his feelings for Tom are, and that makes her happy. She and he don't have to be friends.

She gazes out the window as her driver whisks her away, back down the road winding around the mountain, back into town. She smiles to herself, half amused, half exhausted at the thought she's having; her next dinner party, which Tom and Simon are invited to, is going to be awkward as hell.

END

  * [The Inspiration for Tom's church story](https://youtu.be/kvI4u1_uyNc?t=3m10s)
  * [Simon's first day working with Tom on _Mission: Impossible 3_](https://youtu.be/cwI3vohiyYY?t=20m16s)



**Author's Note:**

> I want to talk about Tom's and Simon's sexual preferences in this series. This note is long. I apologize.
> 
> So, I might've made a mistake in making my Tom gay.
> 
> Real Tom's entire career has been plagued (for lack of a better word) with gay rumors, so making my Tom gay seemed the obvious choice. But what about his relationships with women? Those relationships still exist in this series. I wasn't trying to invalidate those relationships by making Tom gay. It's just that the bisexual option never even occurred to me for him. Which is pretty amazing considering that that is what I, myself, identify as.
> 
> Here's the thing: my Simon is bi. Way bi. Someone call NSync 'cause he is bi, bi, bi. Always has been. I can't recall if I ever referred to him as gay in this series. If I did, I apologize, it was a mistake. I never considered him gay, _but_ I never expressly stated that he was bi either. I did the very thing that irks me so much; I implied, I hinted, I left it up to interpretation instead of just saying it flat out. Because the idea of stating unequivocally that a character is bi, or even that I myself am bi, feels like I'm just opening myself up to criticism, doubt, side-eyes. In my own life I often feel like an impostor within the LGBTQ community because I feel that I'm required to provide evidence of my sexual identity. So I shy away from saying it. And I shied away from making one of my characters bi even though it was the most logical choice. And I shied away from stating that the character I always considered bi is actually bi. I chickened out. A lot.
> 
> The thing is, it was never conscious on my part. The brainwashing that happens when it comes to bisexuality is astounding. People simply don't consider it a serious option for characters. If it _is_ considered a serious option, the word itself is often not spoken. The idea is danced around, implied, hint-hint-wink-wink. I've been as brainwashed as everybody else. I didn't deliberately ignore the option in this series. It just … didn't occur to me to use it.
> 
> I'm getting better at owning my identity. It's becoming less scary to say it out loud as I get older. And so, I've written this; a fic in which Simon's sexuality is stated. Unequivocally. Undeniably. I'm going to let Tom be gay for now. I could change that in the future, I guess. He could have some kind of epiphany. But that's something that, if it happens, deserves its own fic. I kinda like that they're each a different sexuality, though, so I dunno.
> 
> Also, since we've established that Simon is bi, I'd also like to address another possibly sensitive topic. When Tom teased him about being a slut in the first fic, that was literally a joke. I wanted to show that these two have developed the type of friendship wherein jabs like that are perfectly okay. Furthermore, Tom didn't know for sure that Simon was bi, so that couldn't have been judgment on his part.
> 
> When Simon himself kind of agreed with the statement, even though it was a joke, that wasn't self-deprecation. I wasn't using that term negatively because I _don't_ use that term negatively, ever. So my Simon doesn't consider that word negative either. He's chosen to claim that word. I know he's a man and therefore the word doesn't really have the same meaning for him as it does for women. It isn't used to dominate and degrade men the way it's used against us. But since he's bisexual, it could be more hurtful to him than perhaps it would be to a straight or gay man. I suppose. I don't know for sure, as I'm not a bisexual man.
> 
> The point is, when I had him think of himself that way, I was just establishing that he, as a single man at the time, was sexually active, possibly with more than one person, and wasn't ashamed of that. And also that he doesn't view the word 'slut' in a negative way.
> 
> (None of this is based on real Simon, of course. Real Simon has been with the same woman for eight hundred and fifty-two years and has described himself as "boringly straight". Although I will say that the bisexual thing is kind of his fault. Never in my life has anyone felt so bi to me. I mean, he's not, but … sometimes I feel like he should be? It just feels right. Is that weird? It's probably weird. It's just my own wishful thinking colliding with the knowledge that he's straight and my brain just being like, "No, but … but … no …" But I digress.)
> 
> Anyway, I really feel like I should've explained all this before now, but the fact is I wasn't supposed to still be writing this series, or this pairing, four years after the initial fic. How did this happen? How did I get here?
> 
> Anyway, that's all, I think. Hope you enjoyed the fic. Thanks for reading. <3


End file.
